the woman, regardless of individual circumstances. Meanwhile Mr. Crawford, as a man, would have endured a few reproofs and blithely gone on with his life.”
“She loses everything, and he, nothing.”
“Socially, she will be dead, and might have decided that a literal death for Mr. Crawford would be fair recompense.”
“So she lured him to Mansfield Wood to deliver it?” Darcy pondered the hypothesis a moment. It was not entirely without merit. “The grove in which he was found is rather secluded. Though as unwelcome in her father’s house as Mr. Crawford, she would know the grounds, and could have chosen that spot intentionally.”
“I wonder, though, where she would have obtained the firearm. Tell me more about the pistol. Was it a gentleman’s weapon, or a lady’s?”
He looked at her askance. “
“I have read a novel or two.”
“I shall not ask which of them encourage ladies to conceal firearms in their apparel.”
“You disapprove? That is unfortunate for me, as I am begun to grow restless in Mansfield and had thought to purchase one as a diversion.”
“A muff pistol?”
She laughed. “No, a novel. But now that you have suggested it, perhaps I ought to acquire a pistol along with it. Then, like a proper heroine, I could stop the villain by revealing my weapon and proclaiming, ‘Hold, sir — I am armed!’ ”
He wished they were home, and she reading another novel right now, instead of discussing a very real death. “That is unnecessary. I will protect you from any villains who might be lurking about.”
“And who will protect you?”
“I believe it may be safely assumed that the person who shot Mr. Crawford acted out of revenge. So long as I keep my suspicions quiet, he will believe his revenge satisfied and himself safe. I therefore need not fear him, whoever he is.”
“You sound certain that the killer is a man.”
“Not entirely. Though it was larger than a muff pistol, the weapon found with Mr. Crawford was small enough that it could be comfortably handled by a woman, and a considerable number of women did have motive to harm Mr. Crawford: Maria Rush-worth, as we have said, but also two betrayed wives.”
“One betrayed wife, for the killer could not possibly be Anne. She is incapacitated. And even were she more ambulatory, she has had nearly constant companionship since the carriage accident, and so could not have been absent long enough to commit the deed.”
“I, too, have ruled her out — beyond the impossibility of her circumstances, violence is simply not in her nature. I also consider Mrs. Garrick unlikely. Although she had an opportunity to do away with Mr. Crawford when she rode off in pursuit of him, where on earth would she have obtained a pistol of that quality? Even if she had stolen it, she could not have had it with her when she arrived in Mansfield, for you and I both saw her disembark from the coach with naught but the clothes she wore.”
“Ah, but those clothes could have concealed a pistol! Do not regard me so — I only half jest. I rather like Meg, and I do not want to believe her capable of killing anybody. But she did travel all this way unescorted, and before that lived alone with her mother while Mr. Crawford was allegedly sailing the seven seas. It is not unreasonable to suppose she possesses some means of defending herself.”
“I do not recall her carrying so much as a reticule in which to keep it.”
“That is not the only place a lady might conceal a pistol.”
“What
She started to answer, but he shook his head. “Never mind. If indeed the weapon was fired by a woman, I believe Maria Rushworth is the more likely owner. The pistol was manufactured in London, where she lived during her marriage and also during her liaison with Mr. Crawford.”
“Do you suppose she purchased it herself?”
“Perhaps, out of her pin money.”
Her brows rose. “Apparently, I need to ask for more pin money.”
“I wondered how you intend to finance this muff pistol you speak of acquiring.”
“By employing my feminine wiles upon you.”
“I am impervious to wiles.”
“We shall determine that later. Do you think her husband equally resolute? Mr. Rushworth might have purchased the weapon for her, before she left him.”
“Do not most women prefer jewelry?”
“We witnessed how highly Maria Rushworth valued gifts of jewelry, at least from Mr. Crawford.” Elizabeth was thoughtful a moment. “Maybe the pistol came from him, and those earrings were not the only gift she so dramatically returned to him that day.”
“She shot him with the pistol and then dropped it at his side?”
“That would explain why it was left behind. A pistol is not the most romantic gift, though, and Mr. Crawford seems like someone who would be very conscious of creating the proper impression.”
“Perhaps it was indeed Mr. Crawford’s own pistol, purchased for himself when he and Mrs. Rushworth eloped.”
“In anticipation of a duel?”
“What do you know of duels?”
She shrugged. “Someone in a novel has to defend the heroine’s honor. And Mr. Crawford has compromised more than his share of ladies.”
“More than his share? I did not realize gentlemen received an allowance. ’Tis a shame no one told me while I was still a bachelor. Or does the allotment apply only to rakes?”
“Mr. Crawford was not a rake, precisely. He did not conduct his life as a gentleman ought, but he was no Mr. Wickham. Though he toyed with women’s affections, he did not seem to do so out of predatory intent. He was simply vain and foolish and insensible to the damage he wrought.”
“Your defense of him surprises me.”
“He is dead; I can afford to be generous. But apparently one of the women he wronged, or a male protector, was less forgiving. Pray describe the pistol further.”
“It is smaller than a typical dueling pistol,” he said, “but could certainly serve as one. It was made by Mortimer, one of the best gunsmiths in England, and exhibits the finest technical and artistic features of the gunmaker’s craft. It is by far the most superior pistol I have ever held.”
“Just how many pistols have you held? Perhaps I ought to ask what you know of dueling.”
“As much as most gentlemen.” He had never been called upon to defend his own honor, and hoped he never would. The closest he had come was during his Cambridge years, when a friend who had issued a challenge asked him to serve as his second. Darcy and the defender’s second had tried their hardest to mediate the disagreement before the primaries met on the field, but their efforts had been in vain. His friend had died — a pointless waste of a promising life — and all of those involved had been fortunate to escape prosecution.
“An impressive parry,” she said, “but I grant you only temporary reprieve from answering my question. Meanwhile, let us return to the matter at hand. You believe the shooting patch you found in the grass came from the pistol beside Mr. Crawford?”
“It is so fine a cloth that I cannot imagine someone’s using it to load an ordinary hunting rifle. And it shares a bird motif with the pistol’s engravings.”
“Might I see it?”
He withdrew the silk from his pocket and handed it to her.
“Damask,” she said. “Our gunman has good taste. And it is indeed an interesting pattern — a departure from the more common paisleys and florals.” She turned it over and examined the abrasions. “The gunpowder creates an intriguing design of its own — like a black sun, only with few rays. What are these thin black lines coming out from the center?”
“I am curious about them myself. A rifle creates such marks on shot patches, but there are usually more of them — six or seven. They are caused by spiraled cuts within the barrel — rifling — whence the weapon derives its name. But this patch has only three such marks. And if, as I believe, it was fired from the pistol found with Mr.
